Waiting to Rise

     I've always been a fan of "life quotes," posting them in my planner, emailing them to advice-seeking friends, even framing my favorites from magazines. However, even with the words circling my everyday, I've seldom taken the time to apply them to my own life. I like to believe that I am finding my way out of this new found rut I've fallen into; climbing out from the gooey center of  batter that still needs time to cook.
     On my journey from the inside out, if you will, I've learned a number of different directions, ingredients, and utensils (and not in that order) that have taught me how to rise up from the raw, toxic parts of my past that I've always felt unfinished.
   As I get closer to understanding my place in my career,  I've started to ask myself: What makes me different? How can build success based on my own experiences and creativity?
    Although the flour of our lives is an essential ingredient in the mix, it cannot be stirred and molded- or rise-without the fixings that keep it together and the tools that bring in to life. However, I've found the most essential direction, and sometimes hardest part, in the mix is patience-allowing the batter to bake; to grow.
 

Finding Your Click

  Going on my 4th hour sitting in the corner of Panera, I wonder when it happened that I am all of a sudden in graduate school, spending the better half of my day writing a paper. As I watch the table of high school girls across from me, I feel both bad for them and jealous of them. So obnoxious and immature they look. I was never like that at that age. I was always mature ;-) But really, I think of all they have yet to experience in the real world and cringe, feeling semi-grateful that I don't have the relive all the sporadic mistakes, regrets, and disappointments. At the same time, I envy them. Still oblivious to these things-this world they are soon to meet.

     As I watch them, there are roughly ten of them, I wonder if they really are all friends or have been forced together for some school project. You would never find me with that many friends in high school- at least being in once place at once with. And that is still a fact now. I can't say that I don't crave that sort of belonging- a group, or click,if you will, to call my own. However, I've learned over the years, that less is more, and the few good friends I do have can never be replaced. I wouldn't take back one thing I did, didn't do, or missed that brought me to these incredible people in my life. Until that "clicks," I don't think people truly understand the value of friendship. Don't have regrets, because everything you've ever experienced, or didn't for that matter, brought you to where you are and who you know today- Lesson #7

So, to my "click"-Athough we can't fill a room of tables, I will always reserve a corner for you, surrounded by walls that will never cave. My day of seemingly endless writing and random people watching here has ended. The body calls for food. For tonight, leftovers and red wine. Two of my favorite friends.

A Sweet Start

     So, my usual weekend routine involves coffee, cutting out coupons, devising a list of "to do's" for the upcoming week, all while the soothing sounds of simmering, sauteing, and chopping take place in the background on the food channel. Might as well have 3 kids and Volvo parked in the driveway (someday.) I usually anticipate these days, especially Sunday, as my lazy days, but somehow end up busier than ever, and most likely with a cooking project. The first few days after quitting my job, I had a cooking marathon with myself, spending just about 4 days straight cooking, baking, and eating everything that had been printed, post-it'ed, and bookmarked on my "things to make" list. I have to say the event was both rejuvenating and ridiculous once I realized that I am one person and my meals could feed a family of 15...for three weeks. In any case, it kept my mind busy; filled with thoughts of both fear and excitement as I pondered about my new journey in the world. Turns out, I did get a job, and was granted a couple weeks to "get my life together."  I wasn't surprised to find out that this is an everyday endeavor; that we will constantly have things we are trying to fix, finish, figure out, or "to do."

     But the truth it, we have the chance, everyday, to do our best to cross things off and be better, even if that means starting over, which I find more and more something I have to do. So today, to ease the pang of this thought, I'll put my list aside, for now, and enjoy a quiet Saturday morning, baking some mini french toast cups- a recipe I recently came across that I absolutely love and is incredibly easy. A sweet start to my favorite day. And the smell of fresh bread soaking up the scents of cinnamon and vanilla in the oven is an aroma worth waiting for. And one that will comfort and alleviate any stray thoughts (or at least post-pone them). So put the to do list aside, and simply note the sensation of being in the present moment- Lesson #5

    Recipe

   Ingredients

Makes 6 french toast cups 
You will need: 4 slices whole wheat bread, cut into cubes

2 eggs

1/4 cup milk

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

dash of ground nutmeg 

1 large apple of your choice, cut into cubes 

1 tablespoon butter  

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon 

Directions  

  In a medium skillet, saute apples with butter and cinnamon for about 5 minutes, or until soft. Set aside.In a medium bowl, mix the eggs, milk, vanilla, cinnamon and nutmeg until well combined. Add bread cubes and mix together until all the bread is saturated. Add the apples and mix until well distributed.Using a regular size muffin tin, scoop bread evenly into 6 of the muffin cups. Bake at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes or until set and lightly golden brown.Mix 1/2 cup confectioners’ sugar and 1 tablespoon milk until smooth. Drizzle on top of french toast cups. 

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Fairy Tale Future

     While enjoying wine and conversation about life on one of the few surviving nights left of summer on the patio of my apartment, my friend told me that I will have everything I want by the time I am 30. The thought seems both plausible and ridiculous. When did I get to be 24?  At what point did I become a grown up; spending evenings paying bills, calling it a night at 10pm, and unable to differentiate a Wednesday and Saturday night?

      At 18, I planned that, by the age of 23, I would be married and planning, if not experiencing my first pregnancy. Maybe it’s those naïve thoughts we possess when we’re young. For me, it was believing my one and only relationship will last forever; that one day soon we would also be getting ice cream for the kids, and my boyfriend (or soon-to-be husband) would be doing yard work for our beautiful home in the suburbs, white picket fence surrounding, accompanied by 2 black labs and a hand-built swing set.

     Funny how so much life happens when you aren’t paying attention. At one point in the time, that moment felt like it was only a dance away, when now it feels like the song needs to be entirely re-written. Why do I still admire that scene with the highest sense of comfort and desire?

      Is it so bad that one of my primary goals in life is to start a family and build a life to nurture and cherish? I don’t think so. I may have a craving for this life, however am lacking in the essential ingredients: a husband, children, a job. Although our world teaches us that, by working hard and maybe having the right connections, we can acquire most of what we want; a great career, a luxury apartment, those gorgeous pair of pumps. However, I don’t believe these executions are in any way related to the bond we may one day find and share with our soul mate.

       I’ve probably watched too many combinations of Disney and Lifetime movies in my life span to trust that I will find this person in the produce isle of the grocery store, him thoughtfully collecting the fruit that has spilled out of my arms. I always tend to bite off more than I can chew, drive farther than I’m fueled; carry more than I can hold.

       The truth is, I miss having a co-pilot; an extra hand to feed me, steer the way, to hold. As much as we may like to think we can handle it all on our own, we all need a little help. And, sometimes, the best way to find that help is to ask. Lesson # 3. I have always been a strong believer in fate- in the idea that love doesn’t require an agent, checkbook, or special certification, but the unseen ability to be patient, hopeful, and maybe, at times, a little assertive. To my future soul mate- look for the girl with a basket, who should have gotten a cart.

Finding the Sixth Sense

          I'm the type of person who doesn't mind the smell of garlic roasting in the oven at 8am. I could linger in the candle isle all day, discovering how each scent sparks a different memory or photograph in my head; ocean breeze, strawberry pie, fresh lavender (family vacations, summer picnics, quiet naps) . I endure an equal amount of pleasure roaming the kitchen, watching a mound of goat cheese through the window of the oven melt over top a slice of toasted, ciabatta bread as I do eating it at a fancy cocktail party (Do I even go to these?). I am renowned for having a distinct sense of smell, my nose always on alert, trying to match the type of aroma to the cuisine.

            Most of us are aware of the fragrant scent of brownies baking or the savory smell of onions sautéing over open flame. However, how often do we pause and truly absorb the scent of food, embracing its power to create a lasting memory? How often do we immerse ourselves in the first bite of the meal we either patiently nurture over in the kitchen for hours, or impatiently await for its arrival at the dining room of new restaurant?    

            Too often we take our senses for granted. I consider myself a bit high-maintenance when it comes to food. I like my cocktail cold and my soup hot. No steam, no game. I like to use chopsticks when eating a bowl of curry and drink red wine with my pasta. I have an eye for detail, or to state in a more modest way, a mild case of OCD. When preparing meals at home, I assume I am dining out, except that I am my own hostess, chef, and waitress. Forks on the left, separate salad bowl, water and wine glass In addition to my fascination for food, I like to read, take pictures, and spend time with my friends and family.

            When I’m surrounded by food, I like to incorporate all these things into the dining experience; like spices combined to create the perfect flavor. I like to see stories on the wall through vibrant or faded colors, hear the sound of background music, setting the mood for my appetite and the atmosphere for the occasion.

            I enjoy watching plates float by through the air, each saucer so distinctively and flawlessly revealing scents of browned butter, sweet cinnamon, or fresh savory herbs. Or coming home after a long, cold day to a garlic infused apartment; the result of vegetarian chili cooking all day in the crock-pot. The simple things in life.  And enjoy those little things. Lesson # 2. Because one day you will wake up and realize they were the big things.

            I like to feel the way my fork effortlessly divides a piece of homemade cheesecake, clinging to the piece of bliss until, reluctantly, yet elegantly, unleashes it to my taste buds. I like the sensation of mashing a pot of potatoes, diligently tending them free of lumps and preparing them for the extra trimmings that will bring them to life. I treasure the texture of cool, thick dough, feeling my muscles awake as I thoroughly pound it flat, and then carefully nurture it to shape.

            Finally-the taste! A restaurant is the only place I am forced to wait to taste my food, mainly because I have to. However, if you’re a guest at my place, don’t expect not to see my hand dip into the bowl of frosting or pull out a string of spaghetti, testing every component of what goes onto the table. I don’t know if it is more so because I want every bite to be perfect, cooked or baked the way it was born to taste, or because I simply can’t wait, longing to be the first to taste. In any case, in my kitchen, I live, cook, and breathe by my own rules, use every scent I was given, and still try, everyday, to find my calling, or 6^th sense, in this so called life. 

Bittersweet Goodbye

     Have you ever wanted to chase after someone once the door closes behind them? Like in the movies, running as fast as you can, attempting to catch what was left unsaid. I have. But I didn't. I don't know what stopped me. Fear of uncertainty? Fear of, instead of embracing what I'm in pursuit of, I dive headfirst into a mass of cold, hard pavement. Whatever it was, it kept me on the other side, watching the door that divided the outcome of my indecision. And now I am left swimming in a pool of regret, wishing I took the chance when I had it.

     When we care about someone, we should be happy for them- wish them the best and send them away with a box of homemade cookies and cordial card too brief to express the knot of scattered emotion that we really feel. Right? But this is good for him- chasing after much awaited independence in the city of the big apple. Eating high-quality food, traveling past miles of endless entertainment, exploring a variety of diverse cultural norms; living life. I can’t deny that I am utterly happy for him. However, I can’t evade the scent of heartache that lingered in the air after he walked away. Maybe someday I will find another chance to act on how I feel. For now- Bittersweet Chocolate Chip Cookies.

Recipe

Ingredients

• 1 cup butter
• 1 cup white sugar
• 1/2 cup light brown sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
• 2 cups flaked coconut

Directions 

     1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. In a large bowl, cream together the butter, brown sugar and white   sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then stir in the vanilla.

     2. Combine the flour, baking soda and salt; stir into the creamed mixture. Fold in chocolate chips and coconut. Drop by rounded spoonfuls onto cookie sheets.  

     3.Bake for 8 to 10 minutes in the preheated oven. Allow cookies to cool on baking sheet for 5 minutes before removing to a wire rack.

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